A Living Bride
by RStiltskinned
Summary: Christine consented to being Erik's living bride, but alive and living are two very different things. After making a surprising discovery in his room, she makes a decision that will drastically change their relationship - for the better or for the worse. (Leroux, alternate ending in which Erik did not let Christine go)
1. Chapter 1

One day, Christine came upon a night gown.

That nightgown was made of ivory silk, with a lace trimming that looked suspiciously like the one that had adorned her wedding dress. She had found the garment hidden away in Erik's room, which she had attempted to clean in his absence – partially out of boredom, partially out of curiosity (he would not permit her inside his room otherwise) and also because it somehow gave her the feeling of being a real wife.

The three months that had passed since their "wedding" had been agonizing at worst and awkward at best. For the most part, they had stayed away from each other; except for the usual pleasantries that were exchanged at mealtimes and such, there had not been much interaction between them. Christine had tried to engage Erik in a serious conversation, but each attempt had ended with cynical remarks (from Erik), angry accusations (from Christine) and most often even tears (usually from the both of them). Christine was frustrated. She had given up life with Raoul. She had chosen Erik, and sworn that she would try and love him and be his living wife. And now that infernal man pushed her away and treated her as if she were nothing more than a guest in what was now her own home! Christine had not given up her old life for this! If she was to be Erik's wife, then at the very least she wanted to be deserving of that title.

And now she had stumbled upon this suspicious garment, neatly tucked away in one of his drawers. Christine was not a simpleton, and she had lived among theatre folk nearly all of her life; she knew that the daring cut of the gown and its likeness to her wedding dress made its intended use quite clear.

This gown was meant for a wedding night. _Her _wedding night.

Erik had shown no intentions of ever approaching her in such a manner. Christine was fairly certain that he desired her; he would often stare at her with a look that made her feel uneasy and flustered. Other men had looked at her in a similar fashion, though never as intensely as he did. And yet, he never touched her; in fact, every touch since their wedding day had been initiated by her, while he had shied away from her hands as if they were scalding hot, no matter how innocent her intentions were. Considering this, Christine began to suspect that this nightgown may have been a product of Erik's everlasting need for perfection; a man who had spent money on an exquisite wedding gown that none but two people would ever get to see would also not be able to resist getting the matching night gown. It was simply a tradition, and Erik was very fond of those. A bride should be given to her husband in white, after all, as a symbol of her purity. Christine could envision Erik, dreaming of a normal life and Sunday walks, as he had ordered this garment – a garment that to any other couple may have been a reminder of that first night of shared passion, where two souls at last joined and became one.

But to Christine, it seemed as if the silk was mocking her. The Virgin Bride, married to Death. Buried alive here in this underground world. As she had once with Raoul, Christine was once again only playing one part of a married couple, and she hated it. She would be Erik's living wife, which she had promised to be. And she would gladly accept the full consequences of that decision if it meant that she could escape from this half-life she was leading now.

Christine was nothing if not a brave woman.

And holding on to that braveness, she slipped in to the night gown…and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though he understood the necessity of it, Erik hated to leave the opera house.

There was the obvious reason of course – the intense hatred he harboured for mankind, a feeling that was usually reciprocated.

And now there was also the fear that she would be gone – or worse, dead – when he returned home.

He knew that Christine had promised to be his living bride, and that it was highly unlikely that she would manage to escape from the cellar without getting caught in one of his traps, but still, the fear was there, ever present and eating away at him. Erik was no fool; delusional though he may have been in making her is wife, he knew that she would never be truly happy with him, despite what he had once promised her. And how could she be? He hated to admit it, but he had locked her away like a songbird in a cage. And if anyone knew how agonizing it was to be confined to a place, it was Erik. But maybe, with a little luck, he could make the cage so elaborate and luxurious that she would be content in it.

Still, Erik felt that he had made a huge, unforgivable mistake; but what was he to do? He could not let her leave; she was rightfully his now; and yet, her presence brought him more torment than her absence had. To have her be so close, and yet so unreachably far away – what exquisite torture!

Yes, such were the opera ghost's musings as he returned to his home. After depositing his purchases, Erik went to look for Christine. He knocked on her bedroom door; there was no answer. Was she in the living room then? No, she was not. She was in none of the rooms – she was gone! Erik's fear had not been without reason after all! He had to find her, before she might accidentally hurt herself in one of his traps…_or maybe_, he thought with panic_, maybe she has thrown herself into the lake! _He would need a lantern and possibly some rope – both things he kept in his room, as Erik believed that Christine could use those items to escape from the cellars – and so he raced into his bedchamber.

A flash of white caught his eye and he halted.

There on the bed – the bed that Christine had insisted he use instead of his coffin – sat the lady in question, wearing naught but a nightgown.

And not just any night gown – _the _night gown.

The night gown that he – in one of his particularly delusional moments – had ordered along with her wedding dress.

Erik could not do anything but stare, even though he was vaguely aware that his behaviour was not at all gentlemanly. "C-Christine?" he managed at last. "What are you doing in Erik's room…and why are you wearing _that_?" The pitch of his voice turned uncharacteristically high at that last syllable.

Christine's face turned pink – and with all that skin exposed to his view, Erik noticed that her blush was not confined to her face. He swallowed thickly; now there was a sight that would torture his mind for weeks to come. Erik did not think that anything could startle him at this point – but again, he had underestimated his wife.

"Erik, are you happy?"

He stared at her blankly. "What does Christine mean by that?" he answered carefully.

She huffed. "I mean exactly what I say, Erik; are you happy with the way things are between us? With the life we are leading? Tell, me, truthfully; Are you content, are you happy?" Her question came with a hard look that made his heart jump to his throat. How was he to answer her? Was he happy? He had Christine by his side, but she clearly longed to be elsewhere; she was his and yet never would be, no matter what she had promised. "Why must you torment your Erik with such questions?" he moaned.

Her glare intensified, if that was at all possible. "Because, Erik, I think that you are not happy, and neither am I. And therefore, things must change. We cannot go on and live as we do now! We are husband and wife, and yet we act as if we were still merely pupil and teacher…even when you were an angel you were closer to me than you are now!"

Erik was aghast; how could she possibly wish him any closer? She, who had confessed to the vicomte how much Erik's very presence repulsed her! Where did this sudden wish for a more intimate relationship come from?

"If Erik has kept himself at distance from you, my dear, then he has done so purely for your benefit," he hastily offered. "Erik knows that he is repulsive to his Christine; why bother her with his presence any more than necessary? No, no; Christine only feels a little lonely, that is all; perhaps Erik shall require a pet for her, yes? A pet to keep Christine company –"

"Erik!" Christine's eyes had taken on a dangerous glint that Erik had never seen before. "I do not need a pet, and you know it. I need a husband who does not shy away from me as if I were plagued by an infectious disease! I need – I need you!" she admitted, and for one moment, the angry look in her eyes softened a little.

She needed him? She needed _him_. _She needed him!_

"I am not one of your many trinkets, Erik; you cannot keep me on a shelf like some pretty bauble. Did you not want a living wife? I am suffocating, Erik! This is no life – this is living death!"

There it was; the illusion of a normal, happy marriage that Erik had worked so hard to keep up over the past few months was at last shattered. Oh, poor Christine! And poor, wretched Erik! He knew – had always known – that there was no happy ending for monsters; why had he deluded himself into thinking that he could be like any other man? He had tried so hard to make life here as pleasant as possible for his Christine, but he should have known that she would always be unhappy with him. Did not Persephone long for the sun when she was trapped with Hades? Oh…poor, poor Christine, to be saddled with the burden of his love! Erik had worked himself into hysteria now; tears rolled down his sallow cheeks, and as so many times before, he felt the urgent need to throw himself at his angel's feet – and so he did, even though she had told him that she did not like it – and he sobbed into the hem of that expensive, ivory-coloured night gown.

"Oh Christine….! Forgive your poor Erik…forgive him, for he is a fool…he only wished to make Christine happy, but he should have known that such a thing is not possible…oh! Erik wanted to live an ordinary life – how extraordinarily presumptuous of him! To think he could be like any other man…."

He was startled out of his lamentation when he felt Christine's hand timidly touching his head, dangerously close to the wire that held his mask in place; immediately, he snapped back and looked up at her. Her expression was one of concern. She reached out and touched him again, gently resting her hands on his shoulders. Erik did not move, he did not breathe; he thought that his heart may have even stopped beating.

"Erik, things can get better between us. We may never be a perfect married couple, but by God, we can do better than this. The circumstances of our wedding were…stressful, to say the least. But if I have learned one thing in my life Erik, then that it does not help to cling to the past. We must go forward, and we have to do it together." She smiled at him, and that beautiful sight brought on fresh tears. Oh sweet, sweet Christine…Erik's angel! "And that's why I am wearing this gown, Erik. I know what it is meant for-" He opened his mouth to explain, to tell her that he had never meant for this gown to fulfil its purpose, but she held up one hand to stop him. "When papa taught me to swim, Erik, I was afraid to go into the water because it was so cold and dark and it scared me. Do you know what my papa told me to?" Erik weakly shook his head. "Papa told me to jump in. He said that embracing that brief shock would be far easier than slowly making my way into the water. And he was right, Erik. It was so much easier."

Christine took a deep breath, and then looked at him with such determination that he involuntarily shrunk back.

"And we are going to do the same, Erik. We will take a leap of faith and start our life anew, and we will do better than before. Think of today as our actual wedding day," she said, and then, with a slight tremor in her voice she continued, "-and tonight…tonight shall be our true wedding night."

The silence that followed hung heavily upon them as Erik let her words sink in.

She wanted a new beginning? She wanted a proper marriage…with him?  
She wanted a wedding night…._a wedding night_. Surely she did not mean…? But she was wearing that gown! That gown that had haunted his dreams so often; that he had kept locked away because he feared the urges that the sight of that piece of silk stirred within him. _A wedding night…!_

No, no, this could not be! Never had Erik even dreamed of such a thing; it was preposterous! She shuddered at the sight of his face, and now she wanted to…good God, he must not let his thoughts wander down such a path. How could she ask such a thing and be earnest in her intentions? Surely she was mocking him! Surely this was some elaborate punishment! Suddenly, his grief turned into anger; how dare she torment him so! But he would not let himself be fooled by her!

Shaking, he lifted himself from the floor and took a few steps back. Christine watched him, hope and anxiety both present in her gaze.

"Christine…! Do not torment your Erik with such impossible notions! A wedding night, indeed…you would share your bed with _this_?" And with that, he ripped of his mask, revealing his monstrous face for her to see.

"Do you still wish for a wedding night now, Christine? Oh, I am sure you must be yearning for your husband's touch!" he sneered. "Come now, where are your pretty lies now? Had you forgotten the sight of my face? Oh Christine, we could have been happy…I would have tried harder, done anything you wished…_oh, Christine!_" His anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving him with nothing but despair; fresh tears began to fall from his sunken eyes. And he covered his wretched face with his hands and wept.

Again, it was her touch that startled him out of his lament. She had moved closer to him; the last time she had been this near was when she had pressed a kiss upon his brow, on that long ago night. Her eyes were glistening with tears now as they had then; once more they were crying together.

She gently laid one hand on each of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. Erik felt disorientated and dizzy; the overflow of sensations threatened to overwhelm him, and the only thing that kept him grounded were her eyes, those lovely blue eyes that held his gaze and refused to let him go.

And then, without any further warning, she kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik was dead, he was quite certain of it.

And against all odds, it seemed as though he had moved upwards instead of down below. Either that, or hell was not meeting his expectations.

_Erik_….a voice called to him through the dark haze…_was that an angel?_

_Erik….ERIK! _

With a start, Erik opened his eyes and tried to sit up; however, dizziness overcame him and he fell back down again onto something soft – a cushion, he realised. He was lying on the floor, and somebody – it must have been Christine, who else really – had rested his head on a cushion to make him more comfortable. She herself was kneeling next to him, her eyes wide with worry – worry over him! That revelation brought on a startling mix of guilt and pleasure.

"Christine…what happened? Has Erik hurt you? How…?" He looked at her questioningly. Christine bit her lip and sighed.

"No Erik, you did not hurt me. On the contrary – you fainted."

He had fainted? How curious! But how…why?

"What of before? What happened?" He had only a hazy memory of what had occurred before he had awoken; Christine had touched his face, which he remembered, but then…? A rapid succession of sensations crossed his mind; a galloping heartbeat, heat, something clammy touching his cheek, and then something soft…

"We – I kissed you, Erik. And I think it may have been too much for you, because, well…" she gestured at his somewhat undignified position. "I-I'm sorry," she added, blushing.

Kissed him. She had kissed him._ She had kissed Erik._

Now the jumbled images and sensations made sense – the clammy object on his cheek had been her hands, slick with the sign of her nervousness; the frantic heartbeat had been his own; and the heat and the sensation of something soft touching him…_touching his lips_…she had kissed him! Instinctively, he reached up to touch his mouth, as if he could somehow still feel here there, for surely such a heavenly occurrence must have left some mark upon him! He half expected to look into the mirror and see a handsome face, the prince saved at last by the princess' kiss…

"Oh, Christine…my sweet Christine!" he moaned. Slowly, he managed to sit up and pull his legs underneath him so that he was now kneeling upon the floor and facing Christine. And then she touched him again! Touching him as gently as if he could break, she took his hands in hers and pulled them closer until their clasped hands were resting in her lap. He stared down at them numbly, at his yellow, gnarled fingers that were covered by her lily-white ones. How odd the contrast looked! He idly wondered how strange a picture it must have been, her soft, pink lips pressed to his own misshapen mouth…his breathing became more and more laboured at the thought, his body temperature alternating between freezing and boiling in seconds. Christine must have noticed this, for she let out a small sound of surprise. "Your hands…they're warm for once!" she exclaimed. Erik could only stare at her. She had kissed him, and all she was concerned about was his body temperature?

"Christine…" he whispered hoarsely. "Why…?" It was all he could manage.

He met her gaze and was shocked by what he found there; anxiety, worry…but there was also inexplicable warmth.

"Erik, I kissed you because I felt it was the right thing to do. Remember what I told you about taking a leap of faith? This was mine, Erik; I've jumped into the water." She squeezed his hands a little, causing delicious shivers to race up his arms. "Now…will you join me?"

_Yes! My God, yes! _some part of his brain screamed. But the rest of his mind was in turmoil; what exactly would "joining her" entail? Did she truly mean for them to… His mind refused to even utter the words, but that other, rebellious part of his brain gleefully chanted them out loud: _Consummate! Consummate!_ Oh, good God above, this must be a hallucination of some kind! To think that she had kissed him…and was proposing something so unthinkable that he could not even bring himself to imagine it…

Shaking, he dared to unfurl his hands a little, just enough to let her fingers slip in between his own. There was a request on the tip of his tongue, but he dared not utter it; the last time he had asked for such a thing, he had been screamed at and his mask had been flung at him. Yet, she had done it once, so even though it was impertinent of him to ask for it, there was a chance that she may be willing to repeat her actions…

"C-can I have another kiss?" he blurted out before he could lose his courage. She seemed startled, but then her face relaxed into a smile. "Of course, but…what if I make you faint again?" she said, her concern earnest as it was clearly written across her features. How easily she agreed! Erik felt as if he would indeed faint again, but he replied, albeit with a wavering voice, "Erik…Erik will gladly take that risk."

Her smile widened at that, and she slid her hands from his loose grasp to bring them to his face again. This time, did not pull him towards her as before, but let him choose his own pace; and ever so slowly, he moved his head forwards until he could feel her warm breath upon his face.

While their first joining had hit him like a bolt of lightning, their second one slowly overtook him, warmth spreading from his core down to his very fingertips. His bones seemed to slowly melt away until there was nothing holding him upright except for her.

For that one shining moment, his face did not matter; all that counted was the feeling of her lips on his, that gentle, yet insistent pressure, a feeling so divine that he thought he might cry – no, strike that, he was crying, his tears running down his cheeks and onto their joined lips. He briefly registered Christine's hands moving around his neck, felt his own hands going somewhere – he was not sure where, but it was wonderfully warm and soft there. They remained like that for a long time until finally, his lungs demanded oxygen and he hesitantly broke away from her.

My God, she had never looked more glorious.

Her breathing was as laboured as his own; her cheeks and ears had coloured prettily and her eyes had taken on a hard, glassy look that sent currents tingling down his spine. He found that his hands had come to rest at her waist, and he blushed fiercely at that discovery and attempted to take away his hands from their inappropriate resting place. To his great shock, Christine would have none of it; she untangled one arm from around his neck and used it to keep his hands in place. When he looked at her, his heart almost burst from his chest cavity; _the look in her eyes was clearly one of longing_.

"Don't distance yourself from me now," she pleaded. "Please. You don't have to be afraid. Remember, Erik – we have to take the leap together. I-I'm nervous too…very nervous, in fact! But I do want this, Erik. I know you wish for it too – I can see it in your eyes, every day, how you long to be closer to me! You wanted me to be your wife, Erik, so make me your wife. I consent to it; you need not fear any accusations from me. I am giving myself to you – so won't you do the same for me?"

Erik was crying again by this point; and through tears, he looked at her, and then motioned towards his face. "Christine deserves better than this…No, Erik cannot allow Christine to sacrifice herself to the beast…Erik will not! Christine is so noble, so brave, and Erik loves her so! But Erik cannot give what Christine asks…how could he…?" And with that, he began to cry in earnest, bending over until his head almost touched his knees. To have Christine! To make her his wife – in every sense of the word! What unimaginable bliss! He could not…could never…!

"Your face does not alter my decision, Erik. I have seen your face three times now, and it no longer frightens me. I will admit that it is not the face I had dreamed my husband would have; your face is beyond description. But it does not matter to me; truly, it does not. I was never one for vanity, you know." Her words left a wake of chaos inside his heart; he had longed to hear them for so long, yet now he could barely comprehend their meaning.

Gently, Christine coaxed him in an upright position again. Her eyes were so full of that warmth! She arose from the floor and smoothed out her night gown – that treacherous piece of fabric that had begun all of this – and offered her hand to him. "I have made my choice. Now what of yours?"


	4. Chapter 4

Erik stared at Christine's offered hand for a long moment.

And then, he took it, and hoisted himself up from the floor. Now that he was at last towering over her again, he felt a little of his confidence return to him; however that brief feeling of superiority made him panic even more as he realised that she most likely expected him to take the lead from now on.

He had just received the first two kisses of his life, one of which had literally robbed him of his senses; how on earth was he supposed to …_consummate _their relationship?

Clearly, Christine sensed the upcoming panic attack, for she took over and slowly led him to the grand bed that she had so insisted he buy. Erik's mind was suddenly invaded by images of Christine lying in his bed and he let out a short gasp, which caused Christine to look up at him. His desire must have been written plainly across his features, for her eyes widened and her blush deepened. Some sense of modesty must have returned to her, for she suddenly seemed very interested in her own feet. Erik used this brief moment of her distraction to drink in the sight of her; he had not been able to pay much attention to her appearance up to this point, but now he could not help but devour her with his eyes.

The night gown she wore had been made for one purpose only, and that was seduction. And by God, did it succeed! That masterpiece of lace and silk was cut in a way that it covered most of her, and yet the thinness of the material ensured that he could get a tantalizing glimpse of the figure hidden underneath. It opened in the front – it was meant for easy access, after all - and it was held closed by a number of satin bows, one of which Christine was fingering nervously. "Sh-shall I…?" she gestured towards the bows. Erik swallowed thickly and nodded; he was incapable of uttering a sound, his magnificent voice for once muted. He could only watch as Christine's hands shakily began loosening one bow after the other, the fabric falling apart and revealing a sliver of pale skin.

One bow. And another. And then another.

Christine looked up at him. Now, only her hands were keeping the night gown closed, and Erik's heart seemed to be going a hundred miles a minute. Slowly, ever so slowly, Christine pulled open the garment, thereby revealing more and more of herself to him, and Erik's mouth went dry at the realisation that she was not wearing anything underneath. The heat which her kiss had kindled within his body earlier rose up to his neck and ears and a thousand needles seemed to dig themselves into his skin.

When at last the gown was fully parted, Erik could not help but moan at the sight of her.

He'd seen women in various states of undress – he'd lived in Persia, after all, and an opera house was also not exactly a place where modesty reigned. But the sight of his Christine, standing before him without a stich of clothing, almost brought him to his knees in worship. No painter could have ever done her justice; it would have been impossible to find a colour that matched her skin, that delicate rosy flush that made him tremble with longing. He dared to let his eyes wander to her breasts. How beautiful they were, those pale mounds of flesh, capped by two perfect little buds of pink… Her chest rose and fell quickly, and Erik thought of the strong lungs inside of her, thought of the heavenly sounds that those lungs helped create, and found that those musings aroused him beyond imagination. And then, his eyes fell to that small patch of curls, slightly darker in shade than the mass of gold on her head. That most secret place of her, bared for him to see…and she had allowed him to…_she wanted Erik to…oh, God!_

Christine had begun to shiver – either out of fear or because she was cold – and goose bumps covered her body. She crossed her arms and nodded towards the bed. "Do you mind if I…? It's a little cold," she stammered. "Y-yes…o-of course," he managed to rasp. Christine completely divested herself of the gown and laid it on the chair by the bed before pulling back the covers and quickly slipping underneath them. She looked so small, nestled underneath the linen sheets, and amid his haze of desire Erik felt a familiar surge of protectiveness and adoration that somehow managed to calm him a little. Uncomfortably he stood next to the bed, back ramrod straight, his hands tightly clenched at his sides.

He knew what he was supposed to do now; he should undress and join her; but how could he possibly subject her to the sight of his corpselike body, yellow and bony and scarred as it was? It was bad enough that she had had to see his face, why scare her further? Maybe he did not need to undress fully, or perhaps if he put out the lights – no, then he would not be able to see her either, and he needed to see her, needed to assure himself that she was real and not, as he was beginning to suspect, one of his hallucinations. Erik had never felt so torn before; one the one hand, he wanted to be with her, his whole being yearned for her on a level he could not even fully comprehend; but on the other hand, he wanted to flee from her sight and hide himself. He was not prepared for this kind of situation; he had never dreamed that he would be this close to a woman, let alone Christine.

He felt Christine's hand brush his arm, and looked down at her. Her smile seemed to hold all the promise of the world; his already frantic heartbeat accelerated even more. "No more fear, Erik," she told him. "We can do this, together. And if we can get through this, we can conquer anything."

No more fear. Erik's eyes filled with tears again, but for once they were not tears of despair, but of gratitude. His sweet angel…how she tried to be strong for him, when she clearly trembled as badly as he did! If she could show so much courage, then she deserved no less from him. Hesitantly, he slid out of his tail coat – to his shame, he noticed that he suddenly lacked his usual grace – and laid it with Christine's gown on the chair. His waistcoat followed. Now Erik stood before Christine in his shirtsleeves. He looked at her, looking for conformation that he should continue. She gave him a small nod. And so his shoes and socks were disposed of. But every further garment that he took off would leave him bared to her gaze.

He knew it was very unfair of him to ask; she had let him see her body, after all. But he could not let her see...

"Christine, please…please, could you close your eyes?" he begged. "I know it is not just of me to ask, but please…I cannot…I cannot…."

And, gods be blessed, she understood and closed her eyes. Erik made quick work of his shirt. When he slipped out of his trousers, he could not help but notice that his desire physically showed; ashamed, he quickly finished undressing, then hurried to lie down on the other side of the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

Christine had opened her eyes when she felt Erik's weight settle down on the mattress. Now she had rolled over and was staring at him from the opposite side of the bed. Erik could feel the warmth from her side slowly seep over and gradually heat up the cold linen he was lying on. What now? He had a theoretical understanding of what happened between a man and a woman on their wedding night, but he had never thought that he would ever marry, let alone bed a woman. Where to begin? And how could he dare to sully her with his touch? To kiss her had been more than he had ever dreamed of. But to be allowed to join with her in the most intimate manner…oh, it was unthinkable!

Christine looked upon him with a sort of nervous amusement; she was clearly waiting for him to make the next move, but he dared not move, never mind touching her.

And so it was again Christine who was the first to initiate contact. She touched his face, gently running her thumb along his jaw. That simple caress sent Erik into a world of bliss; his whole body was tingling, and he longed to reach out for her. With a moan, he closed his eyes. "Christine….Oh, your Erik cannot imagine how his angel can bear to touch his hideous face! It is not to late…Erik will leave his eyes closed so Christine can leave his bed with dignity…We will never speak of this again and go on as before…please, Christine, you cannot truly want this!"

The thumb on his jaw stilled. "Erik, look at me," came Christine's stern reply.

He obeyed against his better judgement. Christine's eyes had taken on a hard, burning look that frightened and aroused him in equal measure. The hand on his cheek moved down to rest on his chest and that bold move caused Erik to break into a sweat.

"Erik, I will not leave now, and I will not let you leave either. I have told you that I consent to this; my God, I was the one who started this! But if you truly do not want me, then say so!"

Not want her…! _He, not want her_! By God, he _burned_ for her, _and her alone!_

"Christine…I-I am yours! Do you not know that my heart, my soul, my entire being belong only to you? Erik would give you anything – anything you asked! He – I…I love you, Christine! I love you…I love you…." Erik's voice trembled with emotion; once more, tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

Christine extended both of her arms and gently drew his shaking form closer. His breath hitched at her sudden proximity; though their bodies did not touch, he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. Christine cradled his ugly head in her hands and pulled him close until their foreheads touched. Her smile was watery too as she whispered to him. "Erik, I am honoured to receive your love. For a long time, I feared your affections and thought them a burden. But now I think I am at last ready to accept your love as a gift. I do love you, Erik, in my own way…and maybe, someday, I shall be able to love you as you deserve to be loved."

Erik had never wanted to kiss her as much as in this moment; and gathering all his courage, he boldly covered her lips with his own.

Christine made a small sound of surprise, but did not protest or push him away. Her lips felt wonderfully soft and pliable underneath his thin, rough ones. Erik moaned and let his hands emerge from underneath the sheet and tangle themselves in her golden hair. Christine seemed to like this, for she responded by letting her own hands trail down his back, causing delicious shivers to run down his spine; but then, her fingers brushed against one of the many scars that marred his back, and Erik broke the kiss and scrambled from her hold. Christine looked hurt and surprised at this, and he immediately felt ashamed; still, he did not want her to feel the evidence of his cruel past.

"A-apologies," he panted, "It is just...your Erik's past has left many marks on him that he does not wish his Christine to be horrified by."

Christine sighed and took his hands in her own. "As I've told you before, it is of no use to dwell on the past. I did that for the longest time when I lamented my father's death, and the grief became more painful the longer I held onto it. Let go of the past, Erik. Tonight marks the beginning of the future." He stared in amazement as she brought his skeletal hands to her mouth – the hands that had once so repulsed her – and pressed a chaste kiss to his claw-like digits. "And now, husband," she added, "no more talk."

And with that, she pulled him back into her embrace before he had time to retort.

Her mouth found his again and this time, her kiss was a lot less chaste. Erik was taken aback by the force Christine put into this kiss, but found that he was powerless to resist her; with a groan, his hands found their way back into her curls.

When Christine's hands slid across his back this time, he did not flinch. He tried to expel all fear from his mind as she had said; and the exhilarating sensations she was giving him certainly made that task easier. Something soft and warm pressed itself against his chest; with a start, he realised that it was her breasts that were pushed up against him. He could feel one of those tiny buds he'd so admired rubbing against his skin. His body responded immediately to the sensation, his arousal now heavy at his thighs. He longed to touch her; but she had forbidden him to speak, so how ask for permission? When her lips left his, he searched in her eyes for a signal that he was allowed to feel her; and to his relief and wonder, he found her to be willing.

Slowly, gently, he let his hands trace her jawline before they wandered down to her neck. She shivered, and he stopped to reconfirm himself of her consent. When it was given, his fingers ghosted over her collarbone before halting at the swell of her breast. Again, he looked at her for permission, and it was granted. Erik held his breath. With as much caution as would handle a precious instrument, he stroked the sides of her breasts and immediately marvelled at the softness and silky texture his fingertips were met with. Moving upwards, he discovered that her peaks were rougher, but no less pleasant to touch; when he grazed his fingers against them, Christine gasped, and he immediately stopped and shot her a worried look.

"Did Erik hurt you?" he asked, his voice full of fear. Christine let out a shaky breath and shook her head. "N-no. Pease continue."

Still scared that he might have hurt her, Erik moved away from the dangerous terrain that was her chest area and slid his hands down the curve of her waist and onto her hips. A tremor ran through Christine's body, and again Erik stopped what he was doing – but Christine opened her eyes, which she had closed at some point during his ministrations, and hissed at him. "Don't stop now!"

Erik's eyes widened and he hurried to obey her. His hands continued their exploration of her hips. Slowly, they slid lower and down onto her thighs; he was now dangerously close to that one part of her that he had not even dared to think of in his most heated of fantasies. He hesitated.

_Be brave, Erik. Take the leap with me,_ Christine's voice urged him on in his mind.

Erik's hand at last found that patch of dark blonde curls, and at that one, timid touch, Christine gasped. He was ready to withdraw from her, but she grasped his wrist with surprising strength and held him in place. It slowly dawned on him that her exclamations were not ones of pain, but of pleasure. Emboldened by this realisation, he cautiously moved his trembling fingers against her core; it was warm there, and slightly moist. Erik experimentally rubbed the uneven folds of flesh, and was rewarded by another gasp from Christine.

Erik had always been a fast learner; he quickly found out that the biggest of the fleshy knots required the most stimulation, and that the growing moistness was a good sign. He dared to let his other hand return to her breasts and lightly stroked them, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his rough palms.

Christine gasped every now and then and writhed slightly; after a while, she rolled onto her back and spread her legs a little to grant him easier access. Erik continued with is explorations of her, marvelling at each new discovery he made.

Learning the intricacies of Christine's body was not unlike learning an instrument, Erik found; he delighted in studying her reactions to his touches and tried to repeat the movements that elicited the loudest response from her. What bliss, to be able to touch Christine so freely! What heaven, to know she seemed to get pleasure from his touch!

Suddenly, Christine's body tensed and shuddered, and she stopped him. "Too much….I can't…that was…oh…_oh!_" she panted. Her eyes, which had been shut the whole time, flew open. They had turned unusually dark. "Is Christine alright? Erik did not hurt you?" he hurried to ask. She smiled tiredly. "No, Erik did not hurt Christine in the least…not at all! Erik…I…I wish for us to join now."

Erik's heartbeat somehow managed to increase even further, and he briefly wondered whether he would survive the night. Not that it mattered – after what had occurred between them so far, he would die in bliss.

Hesitantly, Christine reached out to stroke his arm. Erik held absolutely still as her hand continued to trail down his ribs, his abdomen and the hollow of his stomach area. As he had done before with her, Christine looked at him for approval, which he hastily granted.

Christine hesitated before pulling the bed sheet aside to reveal him completely. He resisted the urge to jump from the bed and allowed her to look at him. Her eyes quickly dropped to his middle, and he could feel heat creep up his neck in embarrassment. Their previous actions had left him aching with need; physically, he was more than ready for her. A jolt of pleasure and shock ran through him when he suddenly felt a small hand timidly touch him at his most sensitive place. Erik bit back a sob; he sensed that if he let her continue, he would not be able to fully consummate their union.

"C-christine," he choked out. "No..I, please…_ahh_" He shouted out loud when her thumb came into contact with the tip of his length. His whole body seemed to be slowly burning from within.

She looked at him, startled; her hand moved away, and Erik almost regretted saying anything. But Christine seemed to understand, for she laid back and motioned for him to come closer. Erik followed her, his bony figure hovering over her. She brought her hands up to his shoulders and met his gaze.

This was the moment. Erik felt light-headed, as if part of him had already left his body and moved on. He shook terribly as he searched her eyes for permission; he knew that their joining would be painful for her, and he wanted to offer her another chance to stop, but as his previous offers had been met with disapproval, he dared not.

Christine smiled a little and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, before opening her legs further to allow him to settle in between. Gradually, Erik lowered himself until he felt his manhood brush against her slick entrance, and that sensation alone was almost enough to undo him. Christine's eyes held fear, but she continued to encourage him.

He entered her slowly, pausing each time she winced to ask her if she wished him to stop. But she shook her head, urging him on with an unladylike grunt. It took a few moments of tentative pushing and wincing and worry before he was finally within her, and the sight of her pain, combined with the foreign sensations that filled his own body, brought him to tears yet again – perhaps it was more truthful to say that they had never really stopped.

She was heavenly, the feeling of her heat, her constricting hold around him…Erik willed himself to last, but he was uncertain how long his willpower would serve him. And so he held still, very still, both for her sake as well as his own. The silence was only broken by Christine's quiet gasps and his stifled sobs. For what seemed like eternity, they remained so, until Christine gave Erik a gentle nudge, and shifted a little beneath him.

That tiny movement almost drove him over the edge, and he began to move within her, as gently as he managed. Each small thrust drove a gasp (he hoped not of pain) from her and a whimper from himself. Those whimpers turned into drawn-out moans and sobs as he carried on.

Erik felt as if he was about to disintegrate and float way, and he clung to Christine's hips as an anchor. The pleasure was so intense that it was nearly painful to bear; Erik had not imagined that he was capable of feeling something so raw. His notions of passion and lust had been sorely lacking, and somewhere, in what little part of his mind was not consumed by pleasure, he idly thought that he would have to re-write _Don Juan Triumphant_. The pleasure kept on building to a point where it nearly drove Erik out of his mind; after a few quick, rocking motions he let out a howl and released himself within her. The room seemed to spin around him; Erik vaguely registered Christine calling his name before the world faded into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

She really should not have been so surprised when Erik collapsed on top of her.

A kiss had been enough to make him faint before; she should be glad that what they had just done did not stop his heart altogether. Still as he was now, he did in fact look even more like a corpse than usual.

With a slight struggle – he was light, but still a weighty presence – Christine gently pushed Erik's unconscious form off her. At least, she thought with a blush, he'd managed to withdraw from her before he fainted. She could not imagine what she'd have done if he had collapsed and still been inside of her.

Now that Erik was settled down next to her, Christine finally had a moment to compose herself a little.

The initial shock had worn of and she could feel her body ache; she was covered in sweat and, in a certain area, also in blood and something else she didn't want to think about just yet.

There was a burning sensation between her legs, but all in all it could have been a lot worse, Christine thought. She'd heard some horrifying stories from some of the ballet rats.

Seeing him naked had been somewhat bizarre; to see that man outside his usual suit was surreal. He was skeletally thin, all bones and yellowed skin, but still human; still a man. Discovering the scars on his back had startled her; she knew that he had experienced cruelty at the hands of mankind, but to feel the physical evidence of that abuse was quite a different thing altogether.

Erik had been a gentle if somewhat restrained lover, but that was not too surprising; he had not even dared to touch her hand before so everything that had happened in the past hour or so had to be considered a miracle. There had been such a heart-breaking mixture of longing and fear in his eyes as he had slowly begun exploring her body; he had been so careful, so full of adoration that almost bordered on worship. Christine had felt loved by him, and for the first time, she had really allowed herself to enjoy that feeling. His gentle, hesitant touches had awoken an ache in her heart; she did not love him the way he loved her, but she felt as though she longed for him in a strange way that she could not define.

But even though Christine had expected Erik to be considerate, she had never thought that he would…_please_ her the way he did. She had not expected his touch to give her such bliss, had not thought that her body would react to him the way it did. She had not been prepared to squirm with desire until the sensation had become too much, too all-consuming and she had to stop him. The actual coupling had not been as pleasant – there had been a painful tearing sensation and a lingering burning and stinging – but it had not been as terrible as she'd been told by other women.

Christine's face flushed at the thought of what had transpired between them; if someone had told her that she would ever give herself to Erik in this way, she would have believed them mad. It had seemed so unthinkable to her, even though it had been her idea. She didn't know where she had gotten the courage to guide and urge Erik the way she did; she had realised that it would be necessary and been so determined to take this step that she'd simply done what needed to be done.

She was actually quite glad that Erik was unconscious for now – God knows he would most likely be on his knees and begging for her forgiveness if he was awake. Christine dreaded the moment he saw the blood on the sheets – it would take ages for her to convince him that he hadn't caused her any harm. And what a hard time she would have convincing him that she wanted to repeat this! For of that Christine was certain; now that she had been this close to Erik, she would not willingly give up their newfound intimacy.

She had never felt this close, both in body and soul, to any person before. Christine believed that she know understood what "becoming one" meant. And although they had both been scared, although it had been difficult, this experience was one she would not wanted to have missed. Her thoughts briefly wandered to Raoul, and she thought of what joining with him would have been like; but what good did it do to dwell on the impossible? Christine had promised herself to make the most of her life with Erik, to live instead of just being alive. Mourning lost lovers was not conducive to such plans.

Christine slowly untangled her aching limbs and tiredly started climbing out of the bed; she had decided to use Erik's blackout to make a very necessary visit to the bathroom. Walking seemed like an extraordinarily difficult task when one was so sore! Very slowly, she managed to wobble through the room and across the hall to her destination.

First, she washed herself very thoroughly with warm water to get rid of the sweat and blood; then, she brushed her tangled curls and splashed some cold water onto her face. She was still sore, but she felt refreshed now. Most of all, she just wanted to sleep. Christine briefly considered going to her own room, but quickly dismissed that as a bad idea – if Erik woke up alone, who knew what conclusions he would jump to. Just as she was about to exit the bathroom, an idea popped into her mind; the skin of Erik's face was quite sensitive and usual quite raw from being covered by the mask all day; now it was covered in tears and sweat too, which surely would make his face feel sore. Without hesitating, Christine dampened a cloth and took it with her as she left.

Quietly, she returned to Erik's bedchamber – only to be met with the most astonishing and endearing of scenes. Erik seemed to have slipped from unconsciousness into slumber, and he had curled himself up and was – to Christine's utmost surprise and amusement – emitting soft snoring sounds. She knew Erik rarely slept, and never could she have imagined that the "angel of music" would snore. Those soft little grunts made him seem more human than ever, and Christine felt a warmth inside her heart that she had become familiar with by now and recognised as affection. This just helped to reaffirm that her decision had been the right one, that she and Erik could have a happy life together. A happy, normal life with a snoring husband and a real, living wife.

Remembering the cloth in her hand, Christine stifled a giggle and carefully mopped what she could reach of Erik's face. When he slept, his face was still ugly, but no longer frightening; but to be perfectly honest, it had stopped scaring her a while ago. It was still hideous, still beyond description; but it was only a face after all; it could not hurt her. Christine had learned long ago that while Erik loved to blame everything on his face, she needed to focus on him as a person – not on the angel and ghost he portrayed, not on the faceless husband he had tried to be for her and certainly not on the monster he – and most of the world – believed him to be. No; in order to deal with Erik, on had to do just that: deal with Erik, and not who he pretended or thought to be.

After finishing her task, Christine moved to the other side of the bed and was about to climb back in when a thought occurred to her; should she put the night gown back on? Perhaps it would be wiser not to; if Erik woke and found himself naked and her clothed it would only further his insecurities.

Having made that decision, Christine quickly slipped under the covers to escape the chill of the room. She was almost tempted to nestle against Erik's back, but afraid to do so in case she might awaken and frighten him. With tired smile on her face, Christine quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.


End file.
